Back in
by x.luciole
Summary: After 'Out of the box' Neal is in jail with a lot of enemies. Lot of Neal whump. Drug abuse. Neal/Peter friendship, not slash. Rated M for violence and rape.
1. Chapter 1

**Here is my second White Collar story! This time I'm trying to write a real story with chapters and everything so... it's gonna take time!**

**I'm still not english so I had a beta reader (actually, 2), Gandalf3213, thank you!**

**Well I'm not sure I wanna say anything else, except maybe, I would love any positive or negative reviews!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>It had been 1 week, 5 days and 11 hours when the door finally opened.<p>

It had been 1 week, 5 days and 11 hours and he wondered if this was another fantasy, another dream he was having. Peter was at the door, a hand on his mouth. His eyes bigger than ever.

It had been 1 week, 5 days and 11 hours since they had locked him in there, since the first time they had beaten him up.

Now that he could see the worried look on Peter's face, Neal was wondering what he looked like.

"What the fuck?" The agent seemed angry now. He gave the guard next to him a puzzled look.

"What in hell could he have done to you that you beat the crap out of him like this? There is no excuse to do that!"

The guard at the door didn't even bother answering. It was a con they were talking about after all!

Peter crouched next to the younger man. He slightly brushed Neal's cheekbones before sighing loudly. "Where is the infirmary?"

The older man put a gentle hand under Neal's arm and slowly lifted him. There was no word between them. Just a slight nod from Neal. Peter frowned. The young man didn't even try to skip the infirmary thing. That was really bad.

They quietly followed the guard down the hallway. Peter felt Neal's tensed body slowly lose his battle against exhaustion and lean against him. They arrived to the infirmary just in time for the kid to collapse on the bed.

Peter took a look around, feeling his anger growing inside: "Isn't there any fucking doctor in here?"

The guard just shrugged and finally spoke for the first time: "He must be around. He should be back soon... I guess you don't need me anymore?"

The guy seemed bored. Peter just wanted to punch him in the face for what he did. Hell, even for what he was doing right now. Not caring. But he just waved him away and turned back to Neal.

"Hey buddy..."

The conman cracked his eyes open. Well at least the one that wasn't blueish...

Peter leaned forward and started to unbutton his orange suit.

"Don't... Please don't..." Neal grabbed his hand with all the strength he could find.

"I just want to see how bad you're hurt Neal..."

Neal shook his head slightly, his eyes already closed again, and Peter didn't know what to do anymore. He could see a dark mark on the conman's side. He knew blood had clotted under his clothes, he needed to see the injury but... Neal seemed so weak, so helpless. He felt like the kid could just break any time...

"Neal..."

The younger man opened his eye again, a little wider this time, retreating slightly: "Peter?"

"Yeah... It's me Neal." Peter didn't know how to react. Neal acted like he had just recognized him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I tried to visit you for days but no one would let me. I'm sorry I didn't insist more. I just got my badge back today... I thought... I thought you were doing okay... They said they had put you in isolation to protect you... They said you had sent too many people in here... They couldn't put you in general population... I'm sorry Neal, I had no idea... It's the guards isn't it? They did this to you?"

"Yeah, well... They don't seem to like it when people escape from their pretty supermax..."

The agent couldn't help but smile. For once he was glad to hear Neal sarcastic comment, but his smile faded almost immediately: "Where are you hurt Neal?"

He had to ask. Okay, if she was here, El would probably give him an angry look and spend the rest of the day trying to explain why he should have kept going with a casual conversation before asking such trivial things but hey, she wasn't here. She wasn't in front of Neal, their friend, right now. She wasn't trying to avoid looking at his injuries to remain calm, instead of getting up and put a bullet in every guard's neck.

The con shrugged wearily: "I'm okay..."

"Neal..."

"Really Peter, I'm okay. I just want to get out of here... Could we please just go?"

_Oh God! _It was the first thought that crossed Peter's mind.

_Oh God!_ He was so stupid ! He hadn't thought, not even for one second that Neal would figure their deal was back again so soon...

He didn't know how to tell him. He didn't know how to tell his friend that he was just here to visit him and that it would take another couple of weeks before he could get him out of this living hell.

"Neal... I'm sorry, I hadn't realized... There hasn't been a deal yet Neal... I can't get you out. They're still investigating..."

Neal's face was turning to stone for a second but it was back to normal soon and Peter couldn't even be sure of what he had seen.

"Okay..."

"I'll do everything I can to make it fast Neal, I promise! In the meantime I can... I don't know... Would you prefer to go back into general population?"

Neal seemed to give it a thought: "Yeah, I guess it can't be worse..."

"I'll talk to the warden."

"Thanks... I guess I'll see you in a few weeks then..."

The agent frowned: "I'm not leaving Neal ! I'll wait for the doctor at least..."

"No, you can go, there won't be any doctor soon... I heard them talk about him this morning, he got sick and was sent back home..."

"What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought we were leaving... But don't worry, I don't really need a doctor, I'm okay."

"Sure!"

He pushed slightly on Neal's shoulder, raising his eyebrows. Neal immediately backed up, obviously hurt.

"What about now?"

"Peter, listen... I can't see the doctor. Don't make me, please."

"Why?"

The conman rolled his eyes: "It's prison Peter! If I see a doctor, I will have to tell him who did this and file a complaint!"

"So?"

Neal's eyes widened: "Are you playing stupid? If I do so I'm screwed, Peter! Please just talk to the warden, I just want to go to my cell, I'll be okay..."

"What if you have any internal bleeding?"

"God..." The younger man sighed. "I think I would know by now... Please just go see the warden Peter, don't make me beg you."

The agent took a deep breath, not wanting to give up but well... What choice did he have?

"Okay..."

He got up and went to the door, turning around at the last minute.

"-Neal?

- Yeah?

- I'm sorry. I really am."

There was an awkward moment, none of them wanting to catch the other one's eyes.

"I know Peter... I know..."

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><p><strong>Hope you liked it! Please tell me what you think...<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is the second chapter!**

**Thank you for the reviews, alerts and everything, I love them!**

**Also, if you have ideas, if you want something to happen or some character to make an appearance just tell me, I'll try to please you!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Peter had left for a few seconds when two guards entered the infirmary. They stayed at the door, waiting for orders.<p>

Neal was still lying on the bed, fighting to find his breath despite his broken ribs.

After half an hour the phone in the infirmary rang and one of the guards picked it up. Neal could only hear one side of the conversation and it didn't seem to be the most interesting one. The guard only seemed to have two words in his vocabulary; "yes" and "sir".

After a few minutes, the guard hung up the phone and turned to his colleague : "We've got to move him to gen pop."

At first he had really thought it would be better than being isolated. He probably figured that he could get his way with this silver tongue of his. He had been wrong. It didn't happen very often. Most of the time he would find a way to think he somehow had been right. This time he couldn't. He had been all wrong. Peter would have laughed at him in other circumstances.

There had been a guy, waiting in his cell when Neal was brought in. "I thought I was gonna be alone?"

The guard didn't even bother turning around to answer. "Yeah, he's just here to give you a tour of the place."

Left alone with the guy, Neal took the time to look at him. At least he didn't recognize him. That was a good point. The smirk on the man's face on the other hand...

"So, I guess your FBI buddies got tired of seeing you around?"

And the guy seemed to know about him. Definitely a bad point. First he wanted to answer but, well, there was a bed in front of him and he realized he could really use a nap.

"Well I guess I don't have to introduce myself so... I don't wanna be rude but I'm kinda tired and..."

The guy's smirk grew bigger "Yeah... I don't think so."

Neal rubbed his eyes. He was really exhausted and if the guy wanted to beat him, he should start right away.

"Listen, I'm **really** tired so if we could get this done..."

The other man was taller. Neal realized it when the guy came closer and grabbed his hair, whispering to his ear : "I don't think you realize who I am Caffrey."

Neal frowned. "Well to be honest, I don't even know your name..."

"My name is Glen Dogan and from now on you'll do as I say when I say it, okay?"

"Well thing is... I don't want to."

It had always been this way. No matter how dangerous the situation was, his tongue was always faster than his brain. Fucking tongue!

Glen pulled his hair stronger, forcing him to the ground, on his knees. "I don't think I heard you right?"

"Okay, okay, I'll do what you say when you say it..."

Fucking brain too! Not even able to come up with a trick when it should.

Glen didn't release his grip anyway. Instead he pulled the hair again so Neal would face the ceiling and arch his back. "There is this friend of mine, Ryan, who would love to see you. Maybe you remember him? Ryan? Ryan Wilkes?"

Neal's eyes grew wider. He was actually wondering if he shouldn't ask to be isolated again...

"Yeah Ryan... I vaguely remember... Well just tell him I'll go see him tomorrow will you?"

"Don't bother Caffrey." Wilkes said from the door. "I'm already here."

Glen released his hair, motioning for Neal to get up.

"What's with the crowd in here? Are you cell-less guys? Do you need me to make room for you?" Neal tried.

"You've always been so funny Caffrey!" Wilkes said, entering the cell.

"So, Wilkes, what can I do for you on this lovely day?" Neal asked casually.

"I'm not here for small talks Caffrey." Saying this, Wilkes took a brass knuckles out of nowhere.

"Hey easy, easy, I'm sure we can find an arrangement." Neal tried, stepping back.

"One that would get me out of here?" Wilkes answered, frowning. "I don't think so!"

He smiled, watching Neal step back until he hit the wall hard and winced, holding his sore shoulder. Then Wilkes punched him. First in his stomach, a few times, until Neal curled to avoid the next one. Then he stopped, waiting for Neal's puzzled face to rise, and punched him right on his temple, then Neal fell on the concrete floor. There were a few kicks into his side after that. Neal was pretty sure Wilkes was breaking some of his ribs but he didn't really care.

Everything was a blur and he passed out.

When he woke up, he was still lying on the floor of his cell but he was alone this time. The lights were out and there wasn't any noise. Looking at the skylight he could see it was night but had no idea of the exact time. He tried to get up but every move hurt and the room started spinning, so he decided that he could just rest for a minute and try again later.

The next time he woke up there was a guard, tapping on his cell's bar with his baton.

"Get up Caffrey! It's 7!"

Neal tried to get up again but only managed to sit and take his head in his hands as it was pumping hard inside. "I think I kinda need to go to the infirmary..." he said, knowing perfectly well that that was a dangerous idea but hoping it was less dangerous than staying here, in gen pop.

"Why that?" the guard asked with a smirk. "You seem perfectly fine to me!"

Then he just shrugged and left. Neal reached for the sink and finally managed to get up, holding on to the thin metal. He took a look at his injuries in the small mirror and realized he could never survive a few weeks at this rate. His left eye and upper lip were swollen and almost black, his nose had been bleeding and now there was dry blood all over his face. He carefully opened the button of his shirt, hissing in pain every time he had to tear the fabric apart from his skin. It was worse than his face. There were many bruises there, some were old but he could see fresh ones on his side.

Neal shut his eyes tightly. He just wanted to cry right now but couldn't afford that. He had to think straight and fast. First; every part of his body hurt like hell. Second; it was going to be worse if he didn't find a way to end it. He needed two things : medication and protection, fortunately, he happened to know where to find both.

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><p><strong>Hope you liked it! Please review, I would love to know what you think!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Two chapters in one day! I can't believe it myself! Don't get used to it, I don't think it's gonna last long... I already have the next chapter though, so it won't be long before I post it...**

**Thank you so much to Gandalf3213 for betareading this story! You guys rock!  
><strong>

**Oh and I really love to read what people think of this story so please review!**

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><p>Neal got out of his cell and started limping down the hallway. He leaned against the wall, trying not to fall on the floor, counting the cells he passed by until he got to the one he was looking for and stepped inside.<p>

There were two guys in the cell, playing chess. One of them, the older one, let out a gasp when he saw Neal.

"Oh God! What happened to you kid?" The guy's voice was deep, with a slight Italian accent.

"I got better at making enemies..." Neal tried with a little smile.

The younger guy got up, offering Neal a place on the bed: "Come on in, sit."

Neal did as he was told, taking a look at the men's faces. They had changed. The older one, Fabio, had gray hair, he seemed ten years older than the last time Neal had seen him, which was only one year ago. Luigi, on the other hand looked more than ever like a little boy. He was still large and impressive but there was something missing in his eyes. He didn't seem self-confident anymore.

"Neal..." Fabio started, "I guess I know why you came to us but... things changed... Luigi doesn't work at the infirmary anymore..."

"Oh... I get it..." Neal said, leaning against the wall, exhausted.

"They changed most of the guards, it's getting harder and harder to make any business without paying them... and they're not cheap..."

Luigi sat on the bed next to Neal. "I can't have any vicodin or that kind of stuff but I still have opium or heroin..."

Neal closed his eyes tightly "Yeah... I don't think I'm ready for that..."

"Neal..." Luigi started "you really look like crap..."

Neal chuckled a little "Thank you!"

"I mean..." Luigi couldn't find his words. "I wasn't talking about injection or anything like that... You know you can just smoke it... After all it's some kind of morphine... That's what they would give you in a hospital..."

Fabio came beside the bed. "He's right Neal. You can't just walk around in your condition."

The old man handed him a little and overused pipe. "Lie down and smoke that, we'll talk later."

Neal watched the pipe, then Fabio's face. The old man seemed genuinely concerned but Neal wasn't sure he was ready to do drugs... Hell he was even sure he wasn't! But that was kind of exigency circumstances... He took the pipe and lay down, staring at it, then he looked at Fabio and nodded. The old man leaned forward and lighted the pipe.

Neal wasn't asleep. He wasn't really awake either. He had forgotten how much he loved this blur. Everything looked different. Felt different. He didn't hurt anymore

He watched his friends playing chess, they were kinda glowing and it made him smile. Not long. There was a large shadow at the door. Neal couldn't see it clear. There was still the blur.

"Neal, you've got a visitor." the guard said. He didn't sound like the other guards. He sounded more like... "Bobby?" Neal asked, hopeful.

"It's me. Can't say I'm glad to see you back here..." Bobby answered sadly.

"Yeah, me neither..." Neal said, helping himself to get up by leaning against the wall. The room was spinning in front of him again.

Fabio was in front of him within a second, putting a firm hand under Neal's elbow and handing him a sweater: "Put this under your suit" he said with a slight smile.

Neal looked at the long sleeves sweatshirt and nodded. He didn't want to worry his visitor. and his wrists were kinda bruised. "Thank you" he whispered, putting the clothes on.

Fabio just nodded. He knew the kid well enough to know how much he wanted to keep his strong facade.

Neal followed Bobby down the hallway to the visit room and let out a gasp when he got in.

"Elizabeth?"

Neal almost stumbled on the chair in front of him. He hadn't even given a thought on who could be visiting him and now... here she was. "What are you doing here?"

"Peter told me..." she said. Her eyes were red. She had obviously cried and looked like she was still going to.

"I'm okay El!" Neal tried his best to give her a real smile but somehow his lips wouldn't agree.

"That's what Peter told me too. But he's as much a poor liar as you are... What happened Neal?" She tried to reach his face with her soft hand but he backed off.

"I swear you I'm okay El... It's just a couple superficial bruises..."

"Yeah..." she started, rolling her eyes "And what about the limping?"

"El... Don't worry, I'll be out soon..." he said, eluding the question. His head was pumping again and there was still the blur. Fucking blur. He hated it right now. It prevented him to think straight and he was afraid if he started talking he was gonna tell everything to El. She didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve anyone worrying about him.

"You know, I'm kinda tired so..." he tried.

"Neal, don't do this, don't shut me out. I just want to help you..." she sounded so desperate. He just wanted to tell her. Tell her about the guards. About Wilkes. Tell her it hurt so much, he couldn't bare it. Tell her he just smoked heroin to make it stop. Tell her she could do nothing to help him! Tell her he just wanted out!

He couldn't.

"I know... But I'm okay." He rose from the table, as steady as he could and knocked on the door. He didn't look back. He heard her but didn't look back. He heard her muffle a cry but he didn't, couldn't look back. There was a tear rolling down his cheek. She couldn't see him like that. He wouldn't let her.

Bobby opened the door and escorted him to his room. It was empty but Neal was afraid it wouldn't last. He sat on his bed, looking down.

"Bobby?" he started.

"Yeah?" the guard said.

"Could you lock me in?" Neal asked, still looking at his shoes, avoiding eye contact. He just heard Bobby murmur a slight "Yes" and lay down, reassured by the sound of the key in the lock.

After locking Neal in his cell, Bobby went back down the hallway to the very cell he had found the con before. Fabio and Luigi were still there, going on with their chess game.

"Fabio," the guard started "I need to talk to you."

"I figured..." Fabio answered. "He's in bad shape isn't he?" The mobster moved his queen to take his opponent's rook.

"Worse... I can't do anything for him... If I took him to the infirmary the other guards would take him back to his cell as soon as I'd turn my back and they would probably take the time to beat him before they do so..."

"Where is he right now?" Fabio looked at the board, wondering if it was a good time to sacrifice his knight to take Luigi's last bishop.

"I locked him in his cell. Hopefully no one will open the door before tomorrow morning..."

"How long is he gonna stay?" Luigi asked, moving his bishop one square ahead Fabio's knight.

"A few weeks according to the warden... Look, I know what you do in here and I don't care. I would rather see him stoned than in unbearable pain." Bobby said finally "Just try to keep him away from trouble, I'll do what I can as well."

"Sure." Luigi answered with a reassuring smile, making eye contact with the guard for the first time.

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><p><strong>Like always: please review!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi guys! Thank you for the lovely reviews and all the favs! They really helped me writing faster! I know I write really short chapters, that's why I'm trying to publish them as fast as possible...**

**I wanted to ask you something: I'm currently writing the next chapters and I'm not sure of something, I may be going to write noncon sex but first I wanted to know what you'd think about it. I don't want to offend anyone! So I'd like to know if you'd like it or not? Please tell me, I'll post the next chapter as soon as I'll know what you guys want.**

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><p>There were evenings and there were mornings. and if there was a God out there, He must have seen it was no good.<p>

The first days, Neal managed to avoid Wilkes and his friends. He spent most of his time locked in his cell or playing chess with Fabio or Luigi. He never smoked anything else than cigarettes anymore. He didn't want the blur to come back, even if he felt like it was still there.

Each day seemed to be smoother than the previous one. His injuries didn't hurt so much anymore, though they didn't seem to heal so well... He felt like there was something wrong going on but he didn't wanna know what. The pain was almost gone and no one dared attacking him while he was with Luigi. He just wanted to enjoy the moment. And he did, until that day.

Neal had been in gen pop for three days when everything fell apart. He was in Fabio's cell, playing chess, when three guards came in, batons in hand, and started going through Fabio's stuffs.

"Hey! What's going on here?" Fabio asked, angry.

"Shut up son of a bitch!" "On the ground!" "Hands on your head!" The three guards yelled at the same time. Kicking Fabio and Neal to get them on the ground.

Luigi, who had been lying on the bed since they got in, was grabbed by his collar and thrown to the concrete floor.

One of the guards finally found Fabio's stash and showed them the powder bags. "Take them to isolation" he said to the other guards. When one of them grabbed Neal the first guard just said : "No, he has nothing to do with this, I'll just take him back to his cell."

While he escorted him to his cell, the guard started to talk to Neal : "Bobby's gonna be away for three days buddy so... I think you better behave!"

Neal didn't bother to answer and just kept walking beside the guard until he threw him in his cell. Neal fell on the floor and let out a grunt of pain.

"I don't wanna hear any complaint okay?" the guard said, walking toward Neal. "You're gonna be a good boy now, are you?" Neal still didn't answer and just curled himself on the floor. The guard got mad and kicked his stomach.

"I think I asked you something!" He kicked again and Neal almost threw up. He didn't even remember what the question was and, anyway, the guard just kept kicking him, not waiting for any answer. Stomach, ribs, stomach, ribs... Neal stopped counting and just passed out.

WCWCWC

When he woke up this time he was in his bed, facing the wall. He turned around and backed away. There was a guy sitting on the edge of his bed, playing with something Neal couldn't really see. The guy must have sensed the motion because he turned around and Neal gasped.

It was Wilkes. It was Wilkes and it was a knife he was playing with.

"What's going on in this prison that everyone get to go wherever they want?" Again with the fucking tongue!

"I'm not gonna kill you Caffrey." Wilkes said with such an happy face that Neal feared he was gonna do worse. "I overheard parts of your chatting with your Italian little friends. It was very interesting! Who thought the great Neal Caffrey could do drugs?" Wilkes seemed genuinely surprised. "At first I just thought you were a pathetic piece of crap, then... Let's be honest I keep thinking so but, I realized you could be a useful pathetic piece of crap."

Neal leaned against the cold wall. He didn't understand what was the point of this conversation and wasn't sure he really wanted to know so... He just kept looking at Wilkes, waiting for him to finish.

"Did you eat your meals properly Neal?" Wilkes asked.

Neal frowned first, then he asked "Why?"

Neal didn't have time to see the movement and just screamed in pain when Wilkes' knife entered his thigh flesh. He put both his hand to the wound, trying to prevent his blood from streaming.

"Don't worry, I just got your muscle, you won't lose a lot of blood. Now focus! Did you eat your meals?" Wilkes seemed so calm, it was frightening.

But Neal was sick of being afraid. Sick of this fucking prison where he had only enemies now! He just wanted them to go! He just wanted this whole crazy situation to end! He was angry. He didn't understand what was going on and was tired of being beaten and now stabbed! "What's your fucking problem Wilkes? Yes! Yes I did eat my meals!"

"Good boy!" Wilkes started. "See, when I got here I took the pharmacy business from your friend Luigi so... You know how it works, there is a lot of stuff and some of my friends work in the kitchen and sometimes... well they mix stuff up like, for instance salt and oxycodon... A lot of oxycodon." Wilkes continued while Neal's eyes got wider and wider "you know what happens when you take five highly dosed and pounded oxycodons a meal, three meals a day, for three days?"

Neal stared at him in disbelief : "You did not do that? Wilkes, tell me the truth! You didn't do that?" He shook his head: "You didn't" But he had to face the truth, the blur, the pain gone, everything was so weird in the last few days. He rose from the bed so fast, Wilkes almost didn't have time to react. Almost.

Wilkes grabbed him and threw him against the wall, letting him fall on the floor and went to the door. He stopped without turning back and just said: "I won't give you anything without your consent anymore, I swear. When you'll need a refill, come to me." Then he just chuckled and left.

Neal lied on the ground, rubbing his temples, processing what just happened. After a few minutes he started to laugh. Nervous and fearful laughs. Then he got on his hands and knees and managed to crawl to his bed and lay there, still laughing. It was too much. It was too late. He couldn't believe what was happening ant yet he knew he had to. If he wanted to find a way out of this mess he had to... But he just kept laughing while big tears started to roll down his cheeks.

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><p><strong>I hope you liked it! Don't forget to answer my question, I really need to know what you'd like me to write!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for reviewing! I'm really glad that you like this story!**

**I'm a little disappointed that the only one who wrote a negative review didn't sign up or leave any nickname, I would have loved to get helped about Neal's addiction symptoms... I'm not a doctor and I thought everyone would realize it but if someone wants to help me to make it credible I would love it. Besides, I'm not english so maybe I didn't explain it well but I didn't mean that Neal put the salt/vicodin himself, but that it was already in his plate when he took it...**

**This chapter is really more violent, there is a rape scene in it so, don't read if you don't like it.**

**EDIT: ButtermilkCavalry told me that oxycodon would match the symptoms way better than vicodin so I corrected both chapter 4 et 5. Thank you very much!**

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><p>God said, let there be light: but there was only darkness and it got deeper and deeper.<p>

Neal spent the whole night trying to come up with a magic solution. When the morning came he was still lying on his bed, unaware of the time. His leg started to hurt, as did his whole body. He made a mental check of his injuries and realized it took a hell of a long time. He had at least two broken and a few cracked ribs. His torso was covered with many different bruises. Some of them seemed old and were already starting to fade away but there were still dark ones, mostly around his stomach. He couldn't see his back and didn't have any strength to watch himself in the mirror but he guessed there must be a few bruises there too. The worst parts were his thigh and shoulder that hurt like hell. Apart from that he was okay. That was the way he wanted to see it. He knew he would be in withdrawal in a few hours and would rather not freak out then. That way, he hoped he could stay in his cell and just sit it out instead of going to see Wilkes.

_WCWCWC_

Five hours later, Neal was still in his bed, pale as ever. He was curled on his left side, holding his thigh. Every part of his body ached like hell. There was no blur anymore, no way to think about anything else than the pain. Every twenty minutes or so he rose from his bed and went to the sink, throwing up all he could.

_WCWCWC_

Ten hours later, he was starting to think about a way to steal the oxycodon from Wilkes. He pictured himself going in his cell, finding the stash right away and getting back to his own cell. Then he pictured Wilkes following and stabbing him.

_WCWCWC_

Fifteen hours later, Neal couldn't throw up anymore, he just dry heaved from time to time. He didn't have any strength to move and was just curled on the cold floor of his cell, shivering.

_WCWCWC_

Twenty five hours later, Peter was in his cell. Neal called him but the agent didn't seem to see him. He looked at the bed and spotted a blood stain on the sheet. He sighed and turned to Neal: "I thought you were a neat boy... I'm disappointed on you Neal..."  
>The con looked down and just whispered: "It hurts Peter... Everything hurts..."<p>

Peter kneeled down and looked at Neal in disgust: "Well, I think you need to cowboy up Neal! What are you doing on the ground? I thought you were a decent guy but look at yourself... You're just pathetic Neal!"

The con shut his eyes and when he opened them Peter was gone. He tried to call him but got no answer. He muttered to himself "I can't do this..." and got up, steadying himself with the wall. "I'm sorry Peter..."

Neal went out of his cell and started limping down the hallway to Wilkes's. The man was watching TV when he got in and Neal could see his smile go wider as he recognized the figure at the door.

"Caffrey!" Wilkes said, "I was starting to think that you wouldn't come!"

"Just gimme the fucking pills Wilkes..." Neal answered, tiredly.

"I think you didn't understand me Neal. I didn't say I would **give** you anything..."

Neal frowned "What do you want?" he could feel a cold shiver running down his back.

"Nothing big, I swear!" Wilkes smirked "Just a few little things." the man ran a gentle hand over Neal's cheek.

Neal chuckled nervously, backing away, but Wilkes grabbed his wrist and held it tight, whispering to his ear; "You might not love it at first but I swear you'll get used to it!"

Neal tried to jerk his arm away but the other man was stronger. He pulled him closer, turning him so Neal's back would be against his torso. The man robbed Neal's torso, holding him tight and started slipping his hand in the other man's pants.

"Wilkes, please..." Neal didn't have any strength. He tried to fight Wilkes' grasp but the man was taller and stronger, he wouldn't be able to move an inch.

Wilkes started unbuttoning Neal's pants, slipping them down his legs, and threw the young man on the bed. Neal saw it as his only chance to go away since Wilkes didn't hold him anymore but as soon as he tried to rise from the bed, the taller man grabbed his belt and whipped his back so hard Neal just tumbled back on the bed, letting out a cry.

"There's no way you'll get away Caffrey, you better stop trying" Wilkes said harshly. The man had already unbuttoned his pants and lowered his boxers. He grabbed Neal's hips and pulled the man to the edge of the bed so that his lower body was out of the mattress, then he put his feet between Neal's and spread the desperate man's legs apart, leaving his ass exposed. Neal kept twisting on the bed, trying to get away but the other man held his hips tightly and positioned himself in his back, leaving one hand on his hip and grabbing his hair with the other one. Neal felt big tears rolling down his face now, he couldn't move, he couldn't do anything. Wilkes leaned forward, putting all his weight on Neal's slim body. He left a kiss on his shoulder then opened his mouth wider and bit the young con as hard as he could. Neal let out a moan of pain, which made Wilkes smile wider. The taller man pulled Neal's hair harder and, while the younger man arched his back, rammed himself into his ass. Neal let out a loud cry. It hurt. It hurt like hell.

"Please stop! Please..." he begged but Wilkes didn't care, thrusting harder and harder, tearing Neal's inside apart. The younger man cried hysterically now, not caring about who might hear or see him right now. He couldn't move or do anything. He could just wait for Wilkes to finish. And after what seemed like hours, he did. He let go of his body and Neal just tumbled on the floor, curled in fetal position.

Wilkes didn't even look at him. He took a little box on his shelve and opened it. Inside was a needle and a full flacon labeled _morphine_. He filled the needle and got back to Neal. He grabbed his arm and whispered to the young con's ear while he was preparing it "You've been a good boy Caffrey...".

The taller man took his time, pushing the air out of the needle while Neal looked away. He obviously took a great pleasure in the situation. When he finally ejected the liquid out of the needle and in Neal's vein Wilkes' smile grew wider than ever.

He was gonna get out.

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><p><strong>Any mistakes are mine, this chapter wasn't beta read... I hope you liked it! It was really hard to write so, please tell me what you think!<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm sorry it took me so long to post this chapter! I didn't have a lot of time those last days and wasn't sure of how I wanted to write this part... Fortunately I had ButtermilkCavalry's help and she did so good that I'm really proud of this chapter wich doesn't happen so often!**

**I hope you'll like it! Don't forget to tell me what you think!**

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><p>When Neal woke up in the morning, he was disoriented and couldn't tell where he was, or how he got there. Then he recognized that the walls were empty and he knew that he was in his own cell. Other prisoners tended to put some personal stuff up their walls, but Neal didn't want to get comfy. He just wanted out.<p>

He lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling. He didn't want to think about the night before. He didn't want to think about Wilkes. He wanted to think about El, Moz, Peter. He wanted to think about his friends, waiting for him out there. But when he heard a soft knock on his wall he could just close his eyes tightly, hoping it wasn't Wilkes.

"How are you doing today?" a voice said.

"Go away Wilkes..." Neal's voice was tired, broken.

Wilkes sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Neal. "I'm not here to hurt you." he said simply.

"Yeah... Well just don't be here at all."

"I've your new best friend here with me..." Wilkes said, playing with a needle in his hand.

"I don't want it!"

"I swear I won't touch you Neal. I made my point yesterday. I just want to help you now..."

Neal rolled his eyes. "Of course you do! Why don't you just stop playing with me and get to the point? What do you want Wilkes?"

"Nothing! I swear!" Wilkes said and he seemed so honest that Neal could almost believe him. "Listen, you know there's no way you can keep going like this Caffrey. Nobody got to you yesterday 'cause I prevented them from harming you but they will keep trying and if I let them..." Wilkes put a gentle hand on Neal's shoulder. "I just want to help you Caffrey... I want to thank you for last night. See? I even got your friend Luigi out of isolation! He'll be back soon..."

Neal wanted to beat him. He didn't want anything from Wilkes. And first of all, he didn't want to be thanked! But he had to admit that getting Luigi back was a good thing! Besides he kept searching but couldn't think of anything that Wilkes could do to him that would be worse than the last night... And he wanted the morphine. That was probably the most important thing on his mind at the moment. Neal wanted the morphine so bad, he could barely think of anything else... He just wanted the blur back...  
>Neal looked at the tall guy and nodded slightly, rolling his sleeve and stretching his arm out in front of him.<p>

WCWCWC

It was two in the afternoon when Luigi came back to his cell. Neal was waiting there, sitting on the bed. The taller man was smiling. He didn't seem hurt.

"How are you?" Neal started.

"Fine! They didn't touch me. They didn't even talk to me you know? It was kinda weird but well... I'm not gonna complain." Luigi answered. "How are you?"

"Fine!" Neal said. Trying to keep a steady voice.

The Italian man sat down next to him. "Yeah... I know you Neal... Who hurt you?"

Neal shook his head. He didn't want to worry his friend but couldn't find the strength to talk.

"It's Wilkes, isn't it?" Luigi asked, "What did he do to you?" the man was angry now.

Neal looked down, unable to tell the truth.

"Oh God!", Luigi started, his eyes widening. "I'm gonna kill him!" He straightened up.

Neal grabbed his arm. "Don't! Please... Stay here..."

Luigi looked at him and sat down. He couldn't leave Neal alone like this. The young man seemed so desperate. "Okay... I'm right here Neal, I won't go anywhere..." he said, hugging the young man tight against his torso.

They stayed like it for a few minutes until Neal started crying. He had managed to prevent himself all morning but now seemed to be his breaking point. Luigi rubbed his back, trying to reassure him but Neal couldn't stop his cries.

"What do you want me to do Neal? Just tell me..." Luigi asked but Neal just shook his head. He couldn't let Luigi do anything if he didn't want him to get hurt.  
>Luigi rolled his eyes. He felt so useless. He remembered the first time he had met the young con. Luigi had been the one crying that time<p>

_Four years before._

_Fabio and Neal were sitting around the table in Fabio's cell. No one understood how the two of them got along. Fabio was a violent mobster. He usually just sat in his cell and nobody ever harmed him, because everybody knew how dangerous he was and that with a life sentence to be served he had nothing to lose. But one day, Neal,__ unaware of Fabio's reputation had passed by, catching the Italian in a chess play with one of the few guys the mobster was willing to share his time with. Neal hadn't been able to hold back is laughter. Fabio had turned and had asked him what it was that had been so funny. Neal had said, "You just lost that game by taking the queen...". From that moment on, Fabio had known that there was something special about Neal and that he liked the kid._

_That day, Neal was __just about to take Fabio's rock when a tall man appeared at the door._

_"Fabio, I need to talk to you..." the man said, stepping in the cell._

_Fabio frowned "What's going on Luigi?"_

_"Well, you know, there's this girl, Isabella, we were supposed to get married and now... She doesn't want to visit me... She said she won't be able to wait for me..." Luigi rolled his eyes, trying to prevent his tears from rolling down his cheeks "I know it's stupid and you'll say I__'ll find someone else but... I don't want anyone else, I want her!"_

_Fabio nodded slightly and turned to Neal "So, what would you do Casanova?"_

_Neal straightened up "I'll find something!" he turned to Luigi "Give me her name and address"_

_Luigi frowned, he didn't know what to do. He had never seen the man before but his uncle seemed to trust him. "Okay, Isabella Farniova, 396 East 195th Street, New York. If you screw this up I swear to God__..."_

_He didn't have to finish his sentence, Neal was already at the door. He turned back and asked, "__What does she like?"_

_Luigi frowned. __"I don't know... What do you mean?"_

_Neal rolled his eyes. "__Well, I don't know, something that's special to her, something that only you know, because she has a certain memory about it… A certain kind of gemstone maybe or something from a place you took her. It doesn't have to be big. Details, it's all in the details…" _

_Luigi gave it a thought and finally answered, "__We've been to Belgium once and she really loved the chocolate there but… I'm not sure that would be enough..."_

_Neal gave him his best smile. "Trust me", __he said and left._

_Luigi could only turn a puzzled face to his uncle and wait._

_A few days later, Luigi got a letter from Isabella. She told him how grateful she __had been for his packet and that she would visit him the following week._

_When Luigi __asked Neal about the packet the man acted like he had never heard of it. He just said that, if he was Luigi, he would act like he knew a man named Haversham! Neal never told him what Haversham had done that was romantic enough for Isabella to come and visit him and Luigi never asked again._

_He just __thanked Neal and told him he would return the favor. Anytime, anyplace._

Since that day, Neal and Luigi had spent a lot of time together. Neal had taught Luigi how to play chess and Luigi had kept him out of trouble more than once. Luigi used to think they were even but now, with Neal crying on his shoulder, barely the guy Luigi had once met, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed his friend.

WCWCWC

The FBI had been a sad place for the last few days. Peter had told Jones and Diana what had happened to Neal and they had both offered to help but couldn't find anything to do.

Peter had done his best. He had spent all week making calls, trying to pull some strings, first Hughes, then Bancroft, then everyone he knew at the Bureau.  
>It didn't work.<p>

He had to face it, he didn't know anyone with enough power to get Neal out so fast. The only thing he got was a date. Neal would be back in 11 days, not before. And now he had to go tell him. He felt so guilty for not seeing him in the last week but he hadn't been able to. He needed something, anything to tell the man this would all be over soon, knowing it was true. He watched the post-it he had written the date on. 14/08. He got up, took his keys and left his office.

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><p><strong>So? What do you think?<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey! Here is chapter 7!**

**I didn't really like it a few hours ago but now I do and I can't really take credit for it! I got a lot of help from ButtermilkCavalry! Thank you very very much! I was kinda blocked on this chapter and you gave me some great advice!**

**I hope you'll all like it! Please tell me what you think!**

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><p>Peter didn't really care about the road during his ride to the prison. He couldn't stop thinking about the last time he had seen Neal, one week before. Peter had spent all week reliving that moment, seeing Neal's face when he had told him he wasn't gonna get out yet. The con man had been so disappointed... Peter had felt guilty then and even more now. He couldn't find any good reason for not seeing his friend during this whole week. He had even had a fight with El about it. Although Peter had tried to minimize Neal's pain, his wife had been worried sick about the young con artist and had went to visit him behind Peter's back. When the agent had gotten home that night he had found her on the couch, crying.<p>

_"Hey honey, what's the matter?" Peter tried while sitting next to her._

_She turned a tired face to him and whispered "How can you leave him there?"._

_Peter had frowned first, then it had hit him "You went to see Neal?". He put an arm on her shoulders, pulling her closer._

_She cuddled up to him, still crying and shook her head._

_"Neal? I don't know… More like a shadow of Neal. You… You shoud've seen him, Peter. He was limping, he had bruises all over his face and God knows where else.. I intended to see Neal, but all I saw was a stranger." She suddenly looked up to him and her eyes bore a silent reproach. "You're an FBI agent, how can you leave him in that hell? There has to be something you can do… or are your friends' badges just good looking accessories?"_

_"El...", Peter started. He didn't know what to say. She was being unfair but he understood her, he felt the same way; what was the interest of having FBI friends if they couldn't even get Neal out? "I'm doing everything I can honey..."_

_She sat back on the couch. "I know, I'm sorry... It's just... He's hurt Peter... We can't leave him there..."_

_Peter hugged his wife tightly. "I know... I know."_

_~o~o~_

Peter parked his car right in front of the prison. He was afraid Neal wouldn't even agree to see him. The agent closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose so hard it almost hurt, he just wanted his thoughts to stop spinning. He had to go. He had to see Neal. That's what mattered. Peter finally got out of the car and walked toward the prison. His stomach twisted into a knot and every step made it harder for him to breathe. He was afraid that Neal would be in worse shape than the last time he had seen him, even if he didn't want to think about this possibility. He didn't want to imagine but his brain refused to stop showinghim images of Neal in a pool of blood.

The agent finally arrived at the visiting room. There was a guard behind him who motioned him to sit down and wait. Peter did so, trying to focus on something else than Neal's shape for what seemed like forever.

Almost an hour later, the door finally opened and Neal stepped in, a guard holding him upright. Peter let out a soft gasp. Neal was a mess. His face was bruised, his suit was soaked in blood and his hands never stopped shaking. But what worried Peter most was the man's behavior. Neal's shoulder were slumped, he walked carefully, and not just because he was limping. It seemed as if he was afraid of everything around him and like an overcautious animal he even watched the floor right under his feet. And there were his eyes. Neal's eyes didn't look at Peter or at anything else for that matter. He didn't seem to be able to focus on one thing alone, his gaze constantly straying over the room. At the same time they were dull and missing their usual glimmer. The guard guided Neal to the bench in front of Peter and the con man sat down quietly, still avoiding to look at Peter. When the guard finally left and closed the door Neal just let out a soft "Hey".

"Neal?", Peter tried to get Neal's attention, but the con man didn't move. The agent started to get worried.

"Yeah?", Neal finally drawled. He tried to smile but his hurt face only allowed him to make a weird grin. Peter got up. He just wanted to get to his friend, giving him just a little bit of comfort.

"Don't!", Neal shouted. "Don't come near me Peter.", he said with a softer voice, finally raising his head.

The agent took the time to look at his face now and it was not only bruised, his lower lip was still bleeding. "They just did this to you", he said.

"When they saw your name on the visitor list they thought I had talked to you..." Neal answered simply. "I think it's better to stay as distant as possible... I said you were coming out of professional reasons."

"Neal..." Peter started, not knowing what to say next. It was so hard to see his friend hurt and not being able to do anything about it. The agent sat back and slightly touched Neal's hand; "I'm sorry Neal.", he said softly.

The young man jerked back, still trying to avoid Peter's gaze "Don't touch me Peter. Please." He seemed so close to his breaking point and Peter didn't know what to do.

"Okay, I'm sorry.", Peter started, as casually as possible. "I came to tell you that I tried everything I could to get you out but you won't be free for almost two weeks more. Eleven days, Neal, that's all… You only have to make it through eleven days. I'm sorry, Neal.

Neal simply nodded. "It's okay." The con man closed his eyes for just a moment and Peter wondered if his friend was blinking away tears. When Neal started talking again his voice was husky, almost broken. "Don't worry, Peter. It's not as if I'm your responsibility, right?"

Peter could see that his friend was trying very hard to keep a strong facade but when he looked more closely he realized something was kinda off. Neal was still avoiding his gaze and the con man shrugged slightly every now and then, obviously embarrassed by something that Peter didn't get. And then it hit him. Red eyes, shaking hands... When he added those symptoms to the weird way Neal was acting he could only think about one thing and he didn't want to.

"Neal?", Peter started in disbelief, "Did you take something?"

"I think I should go." Neal answered, straightening up.

"Neal! Answer me!" Peter shouted. He knew he already had his answer but didn't want to believe it. Neal was already at the door, knocking to call a guard when Peter got up. The con didn't look back and when the door opened he just left without another word.

"NEAL!", Peter called one last time but he didn't get any answer and the door just closed in front of him. Neal was gone.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading! Please leave a little review. I'd love to know what you thinkwant/hope... Pretty pretty please!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A huge thanks to ButtermilkCavalry who helped me a lo****t!**

**Please R&R!  
><strong>

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><p>Peter slammed his fist against the prison's door when it closed behind him. There was a guard behind him, watching, but Peter didn't care. He couldn't believe it. It didn't fit. Neal was not the kind of guy that'd take drugs to forget his problems, was he? And yet there wasn't any other explanation for Neal's strange behavior the agent could think off.<p>

On his way back to the office he couldn't stop thinking about Neal. He began to wonder if his previous assumption had been right and the con artist really wouldn't do drugs at all. Peter had never really seen Neal in physical pain. He had seen Neal going through a lot of emotional shit, but never alone and never pushed to his physical limits. Sure, in Neal's business day-to-day bruising was sometimes inevitable but as far as Peter could tell the con artist had always found his way out of almost every situation with a little bit of flattery and a little remove the of luck. The agent doubted that Neal had ever been forced to cope with serious injuries or suffer pain over a long period of time. Peter feared that Neal saw this as his only way to deal with pain. Drugs.

Peter frowned, stopping his train of thought; it wasn't a way to cope. For no one. And if Neal really was taking drugs Peter would find a way to stop him. Like it or not.

~o~o~o~

When he got out of the visiting room Neal went directly to his cell. Wilkes was there. The young con artist pinched his nose, already exasperated.

"Walls have ears Neal. Don't you know that?", Wilkes started in a smile.

"Just go away, Wilkes. It's really not a right time.", Neal answered, rolling his eyes. He didn't care about what Wilkes might have heard. He just wanted to be alone right now. He lay down on the bed, looking away from Wilkes.

"My dear friend... There isn't a time not 'right' for me to visit you. At least not for the next... What? ... Eleven days?", Wilkes said with a grin.

Neal sat up and turned around to the other man. How could he know that? Wasn't there any fucking guard who wasn't a snitch for this piece of crap?

"So what?", Neal tried, "I don't care if you know that..."

"I do. I've been waiting for this information for days now!", Wilkes answered, "And during this time I gave you this for free, remember?", he motioned the little bottle "and I'll keep doing it during the next eleven days but you're gonna have to do something for me."

Neal straightened up: "I wouldn't say it was for free...", he said bitterly.

Wilkes answered with a little grin "Yeah, whatever... What I meant is; I did something for you, now it's your turn to do something for me. I want to get out."

Neal's eyes widened: "You want me to escape with you? I'll never do that Wilkes! You know I won't!"

"It's not what I'm saying. What I say is; you enjoy your last days here, I keep providing you with your sweet little morphine and when you get out you start figuring a plan to help me escape."

Neal had no idea, where Wilkes was going with this. Why the hell would he help him once he was out? He got the strange feeling, that there was more to the other man's mischievous smile than met the eye but wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

Neal chuckled nervously: "I won't do it Wilkes. I can't.", the con man shook his head. He would never do such a thing.

"You can and you will!", Wilkes sounded angry now, "You may be the smart one outside but in here nobody cares about your brain. You're a fucking lost puppy in here Caffrey! Don't you get that?" He couldn't believe that the con man dared telling him 'no'. "Didn't you get it last time?", the taller man grabbed Neal's collar, forcing him up but without letting his feet touch the ground. And Neal felt weak indeed. Wilkes throw him back onto the bed, on his tummy this time, and put his knee on the young man's back to hold him still.

"Wilkes!", Neal cried, afraid to understand what was happening, "Wilkes don't! Please!", his voice was hysterical now.

But the other man was already taking off his belt and he put it around Neal's neck, "Will you fucking shut up for once?" Wilkes tightened the belt and Neal couldn't breathe any more. He couldn't answer either and Wilkes was obviously fine with that. The taller man stripped Neal from his pants, enjoying each seconds while the young con man squirmed on the bed, gasping for air. Wilkes took his own pants off and lay down on Neal. He reached for the belt and took it off Neal's neck.

The young man took a few deep breathes before speaking again, "Wilkes! Stop it, we can talk! I could find you money or paintings!" he sounded so desperate, it made Wilkes laugh.

"I don't care about what you can _give_ me Caffrey. I care about what I can _take_ from you.", the man said with an evil smile. He placed himself between Neal's legs and whispered to the con man's ear, "And I thing dignity is one of those thing", and he slammed himself into the younger man.

A few minutes later Wilkes was done. He hitched Neal's pants back up and buttoned his own. Neal was still laying on the bed, his head buried in his pillow. Wilkes knelt at his side and whispered to his ear "I always get what I want Caffrey, I thought I had proven that already. As soon as you'll get out of here I want you to start thinking about an escape plan." The taller man straightened up, ready to leave the cell. He took a last look to Neal's shaking body and said, "You wouldn't want anything to happen to your dear friend Luigi, would you?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay, I'm really sorry I didn't update for so long! I promise I'll do my best so it won't happen again... Here is chapter 9! As always, it wouldn't be here if it wasn't for ** ButtermilkCavalry. A huge thanks to her!  
><strong>**

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><p>When Wilkes left his cell Neal knelt down by his bed and started searching frantically under his mattress for three plastic pieces - a cell phone, a battery and a pin card Luigi had given him a few days before. The con man got up and leaned against the wall. Then, he put the pieces together and dialed a number before sticking the cell to his ear. It rang twice before Neal could hear the other man answer: "Burke."<p>

Neal shut his eyes tightly, trying to blink the tears away. He needed to focus. "It's me.", he said with a voice as steady as possible, "I changed my mind. I don't want to work with you anymore."

"What?", Peter answered. "What's going on Neal?", the agent tried.

"Nothing. I'm done with you and that whole FBI thing. I want to spend my three years here and go back to my old life without you!", Neal managed to sound angry despite the tears on his cheek. Years of training to get this confident tone of his were finally paying off.

"Neal, I know this is not what you want. What aren't you telling me?", Peter's voice was soft and concerned and Neal just wanted to tell him everything, but the con man had already played this through in his mind, had already asked himself all the questions. Could Peter help? Could he get protection for Luigi and Neal out? Could he move Wilkes to another prison? But Neal had always come to the same conclusion – he had trusted the FBI once, he wasn't willing to take the chance of losing someone close to him again. Peter had failed him in protecting Kate, getting her back to Neal. Even if his handler was willing to help, bureaucracy would slow him down. Neal didn't have time. He had to go through this alone. "I'm done, that's it. I won't sign any paper. And I won't come back.", he said sharply.

"Neal, don't do this, talk to me!" Peter was begging, his voice was getting louder. Neal couldn't answer; he slid against the wall, choking back his tears.

"Neal! Tell me what the hell is going on!", Peter was yelling now. Then, for a moment, there was deafening silence between them until Peter finally broke it. "Ok, I'm on my way."

"No!" Neal realized he had used most of his strength to yell that simple word. He slumped down to the floor and buried his head in his second hand. "Don't come. I'll reject your visit anyway. I don't want to see you again, Burke." His tone was sharp, cold. Neal would have been proud of himself any other time but this wasn't a con. Or at least not one he would brag about later.

The con man hung up the phone, exhausted. He just wanted to shut down his brain now. He wanted to stop thinking about Peter. He couldn't. He could picture the agent very clearly in his mind. Peter was always at his office at this time of the day. He probably had spent the whole conversation looking through the window, focusing on Neal's voice, trying to find a clue, a lead to what was going on. He would never figure it out. Neal wouldn't let him.

The young man pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned his head heavily against the wall. Now that he had made the call there was nothing, _no__one_, he had to be strong for, and he just broke down. He could have stayed strong. He could have gone to Luigi and told him everything. Maybe they could have made a plan, found an idea to get rid of Wilkes. He didn't.

He could have called Mozzie, asked him to get him out. They could have gone away, as far from New York as possible. Maybe Mozzie would have found a way to make Wilkes believe that Neal was dead. He could have protected Luigi that way. He didn't.

He didn't do anything smart, anything rational. He just leaned against the wall. Broken.

It could have happened days before.

It could have happened when he was in solitary.

It could have happened the first time Wilkes had raped him.

He had no explanation why it hadn't happened before. But it was _now_ he realized that he was broken.

The con man made no move. He spent the whole afternoon in the corner of his cell, his face buried in his knees. When a guard came to check on him Neal didn't get up, didn't answer. Only his shaking body could tell the guard he wasn't dead. No one else came into his cell that day. People seemed to be afraid now. Just like kids who had broken their toy.

* * *

><p>When the line went dead, Peter just threw his cell to the opposite glass wall. A fine line appeared where the phone hit the glass. Peter didn't even care that he'd have to pay for that. He didn't care about anything anymore. Within seconds Diana and Jones rushed into his office, wondering what had happened. Peter didn't even turn around to look at them. His gaze lingered on New York, but he had no eye for the beauty of the city.<p>

"What's going on boss?", Diana asked.

Peter raised his head. "I don't know.", he answered honestly. "I just got a call from Neal. He doesn't want to come back. He wants to stay in jail... He won't tell me why."

Jones raised an eyebrow. "But you said he was in a pretty bad shape... I thought he wanted to get out as soon as possible."

"So did I...", Peter answered. He didn't know why Neal wanted to stay in jail but he was sure it was a mistake. And he was also sure he would find out what was going on in that stupid brain of Neal's and get his sorry ass out of jail anyway. What he didn't know was how he would do it.

"If you need anything boss, I...", Diana started before taking a glance at Jones who nodded, "...we can help."

"Thank you guys.", Peter tried to give them a comforting smile, "Maybe you could start by finding the list of the convicts and find out which ones of them are linked to Neal."

"Sure", Diana answered and the two agents left the office.

Peter went back to the window, unsure of what he should do. He wanted to go to the prison, to find Neal and get the truth out of him. He didn't. He knew it was a bad idea. He knew it could be dangerous, not for him but for the con man. Even when he didn't know why.

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><p><strong>Scientific studies proved that reviews make me write faster! =P<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**I think ButtermilkCavalry is becoming a cowriter more than a beta! =P She helped me so much on the last chapters, including this one, I can't thank her enough!**

**ButtermilkCavalry you're really the best!  
><strong>

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><p>On the next day, Luigi came to check on him. Neal didn't tell him what had happened. Luigi didn't ask. He just sat on the bedside, quietly. He came every afternoon. They smoked cigarettes most of the time and sometimes heroin. Luigi talked about Isabella. About the kid they were going to have. He felt weird about conceiving a kid in jail. He wondered if they would tell him when he grew up. It would be awkward, wouldn't it? Neal didn't answered. He didn't talk at all. Didn't move. Didn't eat.<p>

A whole week passed by.

Luigi was worried. At lunch time Neal stayed in his cell. The guards had tried to get him out on the first days but they were too afraid of the quiet con man. Neal seemed so calm they were sure he was ready to explode. They didn't want to face the consequences if the kid started talking. But they didn't get it. Neither did Luigi. Neal was not calm. He was not ready to explode, just like he was not hungry or sleepy. Neal was not there at all. His body was just laying on the bed but Neal was far away. He was in Sardinia. He was with Kate, having ice cream on the beach, their toes in the sea. He was looking at the sunset. Everything felt simply right.  
>But when he turned back to Kate her face was weird. There were burns on her cheeks, flames all around. Neal tried to reach her shoulder, to hold her but she was disappearing in front of him.<p>

"KATE!", the con man straightened up on his bed, panting. He didn't know where he was. It was not Sardinia. He was on a bed, in a dark room. Kate was nowhere to be seen. "KATE!", he kept calling her.

After a few minutes of hearing the convict scream in his cell, a guard came. He opened the door and went to Neal's bedside. "It's 2a.m. and there's no fucking Kate here! So why don't you shut the fuck up?", the guard said while he violently shook Neal to make him snap out of whatever hallucinations he had.

The con man didn't seem to see him. He kept watching the wall, calling Kate. The guard stopped shaking him and took a closer look. The convict's skin was sweaty and burning with fever. "Fuck!", he said, leaving the cell in a hurry.

A few minutes later he came back with two doctors and a gurney and they took Neal to the infirmary.

WCWCWC

Edward Coleman knew that his prison wasn't a paradise on earth. Some of the most dangerous men of the U.S. were part of his responsibility and yes, sometimes things went wrong. But when the prison warden read the medical report of inmate Nr.8452-986 this morning, his stomach turned. Neal Caffrey was in bad shape and one of his guards had let it happen. So, the first thing after reading the report, Coleman called Bobby to his office. He didn't hide that it was urgent. The guard had been here for years and the warden knew that he kinda cared about Caffrey. Maybe he could help Coleman figuring out what had happened.

"What's going on, sir?", Bobby asked when he entered the office.

"I could ask you the same thing! What happened to Caffrey?", the warden seemed to be upset but Bobby didn't understand what he was talking about.

"I have no idea, sir, I was scheduled for the other aisle this week...", Bobby answered honestly.

Coleman sighed deeply. "Of course..."

"Can I ask you what happened to him, sir?", Bobby asked.

The warden sat down at his desk and closed his eyes for a minute. He looked exhausted.

"He was brought to the infirmary last night. I just got the report. He was dehydrated and undernourished. They found several cuts and bruises all over his body. A stab wound in his thigh. A few broken ribs...", the warden closed his eyes again. He couldn't believe all this had happened on his watch. "He is also running a fever. Probably an infection." he finally said matter of fact.

"Can I see him?", Bobby asked, trying not to show how worried he was for the young man. He knew that guards weren't supposed to get along with convicts so well but Neal... Neal was different.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute, I have to call his FBI handler.", Coleman said, picking up the phone.

Bobby nodded and left the office. He couldn't believe it. He knew that the kid was having a rough time since he had gone back to prison but he thought it had gotten better. When he entered the infirmary the doctor was sitting at his desk, reading files. He lifted his head when Bobby knocked on the door.

"Can I help you?", the doctor asked politely.

"I came to see Mr. Caffrey.", Bobby was worried when he didn't see Neal in the first room. There were three beds in there and only one was taken. There was no reason the young convict wouldn't be here.

The doctor got up and motioned Bobby to follow him. The guard had to ask. He couldn't help it; "Why isn't he in the first room?"

"We think the other convicts could be a danger to him. He's been beaten. Repeatedly. And..." The prison's doctor was a young man. He hadn't been there a long time and wasn't really used to the prison yet. And certainly not to telling people that kind of news. "We think he might have been abused..."

Bobby didn't answer at first. He didn't really know what to say actually. What are you supposed to say in that case anyway? But when the doctor drew the curtain in the middle of the room, Bobby could finally see Neal's face.

"Don't tell anyone.", Bobby heard his own voice before he could think about what he was saying.

"I beg your pardon?", the doctor couldn't believe it. Was this man really asking him to hide this?

"This guy is strong. He's the most confident man I've ever known. If he thinks that nobody knows, he'll keep being that man. But if he ever sensed the slightest sign of pity, he would simply break down. He wouldn't be himself anymore. Neal Caffrey would be gone."

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><p><strong>Scientific studies proved that reviews make me write faster! =P<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**Huh ok, it's been a while! So happy new year! I hope there are still a few people around here... I did my best but december was a crazy month! So here is the 11th chapter, I hope you'll like it...**

**Thank you for the reviews, favs and everything! I don't have time to answer the reviews but they really make me write faster! =P**

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><p><em>Previously: Neal is back in jail at the end of the first season. Wilkes is there too and he wants Neal to get him out or Neal's friends will get hurt.<em>

Peter had spent the whole week trying to find a way to get Neal out without the kid consenting to it. There was no way.  
>He had also tried to go visit him even though Neal had said he wouldn't accept it. The agent had secretly hoped that it was some sort of code, that Neal was afraid of something and didn't want people to know he still had contact with the FBI but the guards told him that Neal didn't accept any visitor.<p>

It was Friday and Peter was sitting at his desk, hopeless. There was no way Neal would come back working with him and he didn't even know why! He was going to tell Diana and Jones that they could stop calling in favors of every friend in higher positions they knew just to get Neal out against his will when his phone rang. The agent had been lost in his own thoughts for so long that the ring startled him. He looked at his phone and picked up even though he didn't recognize the caller's ID.

"Burke."

His face lost its color when the man answered. Peter couldn't believe this was happening. He had been afraid to get this call since the first time he had visited Neal. He had tried to put that awful idea in a very dark and hidden place of his brain, as far away from his consciousness as possible but here it was. He didn't really listen to the warden who tried to explain him everything in a calm and sober voice. The agent was already pushing the elevator's button when he realized he had left his office.

"I'm on my way", Peter told the warden and hung up the phone. Jones was at his side, a confused look on his face.

"It's Neal. He's at the infirmary."  
>Peter didn't have to say anything else. Jones was already taking the elevator with him.<p>

"I'm going with you," the young agent said, "I'll drive."  
>It wasn't a question. Peter looked at his shaking hands and gave Jones the car keys. It wasn't a good time for him to drive and he knew that.<p>

They drove in silence. Once in a while Peter grumbled a few unintelligible words and Jones nodded quietly. They didn't have any idea of what had happened but they knew Neal. Neal and his fucking non-violence. What they didn't know was how far someone could go to hurt the con man until his hot buttons were pushed. And they honestly didn't want to know.

When they entered the infirmary and introduced themselves the young doctor led them to Neal's bed without a word. The warden was there too but neither Peter nor Jones really saw him. They couldn't take their eyes away from the motionless body in the bed.  
>Peter went to the bedside and took Neal's hand quietly. He wanted to stroke the young man's hair but didn't dare touching him.<p>

"What happened?", Peter asked coldly, never looking away from Neal.

"We don't know for sure," the warden started, "we'll know more when he'll wake up.", the man said uneasily. "I'm Edward Coleman, the warden. For now, all I can say is that something probably happened a week ago since he ceased eating and talking at about that time."

Peter shut his eyes tightly; "And you didn't think it was worth giving me a call?" he asked, turning to face the warden.

"We didn't-", Coleman tried to answer but Peter cut him off.

"I don't need to know what you were thinking, leaving him in that shape for a week!", Peter didn't want to think about the consequences of yelling at a warden like that. He couldn't believe the man had let this happen to his friend.

Coleman didn't react. He knew that the agent blamed him and couldn't really resent him for that. He dropped his gaze for a moment, then continued with his speech, completely ignoring Peter's angry glare "The doctor said that he would wake up any time now. I'll leave you with your friend. Give me a call if you need anything," the warden said before leaving the infirmary.

Jones found two seats in the first room and brought them at Neal's side.  
>"You should sit down, boss. It could take a while…", the young agent said.<p>

Peter looked at Jones without really processing what was going until he finally let himself slump down in the chair, waiting desperately for Neal to wake up. He didn't even recognize the worried glances his agent shot him every once in a while.

It took one hour twenty three minutes and forty seven seconds for Neal to move in his bed. Peter was at his side immediately, taking his eyes away from the clock for the first time since he sat.

"Neal?", the agent tried.  
>The con man opened his eyes slowly.<p>

"You're at the infirmary Neal.", Jones said from the other side of the bed.  
>Neal looked around, disoriented. "What happened?", he asked weakly.<p>

"We kinda hoped that you could tell us.", Peter answered with a reassuring smile.

The young man closed his eyes for a few seconds, trying to recollect his memory. When he looked at Peter again, he just said; "I want to go back to my cell.", before looking at the ceiling.

"What?" Peter couldn't believe it! Neal looked like a pale shadow of himself and he was still trying to make everyone believe that he wanted to stay here!

When Jones realized that his boss was gonna get angry at the young man he gave it a shot.  
>" What's going on Neal? You know you can tell us anything, right?"<p>

"Is that so? Well, then why don't you just go away and let me get back to my cell?", Neal said, not looking at either of the agents.

"Who did this to you Neal? We could get you protection. We could get you out, back to work...", Peter said, "let us help you."  
>Neal couldn't answer. He knew he was hurting his friends but he couldn't tell them anything.<p>

Fortunately, the doctor entered the room a few seconds later; Neal couldn't thank him enough for the distraction.

"Agents, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave the room. I have to see M. Caffrey in private", the doctor said and waited for the agents to leave before talking to Neal.

"Could you tell me what happened to you? What you remember...?"

"I don't know... I think I ate something weird, I was sick all week. Why?" Neal asked innocently.

The doctor sighed deeply before answering; "You have two bruised and three broken ribs, a stab wound, a large bruise on your right kidney...", he looked away from his file and asked; "Do you need me to keep reading?"

"No.", Neal answered coldly. "I want to go back to my cell.", he asked again.

"I can't do that", the doctor said, "you'll have to stay here a few days. At least long enough to rehydrate your body properly."

Neal rolled his eyes, "Ok but could you please tell the FBI agents that I don't want any visitor?" he asked.

The doctor nodded quietly and left the room.

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><p><strong>A little review?<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**Once again a huge thanks to ButtermilkCavalry who helps me a lot on every chapter!**

**And thank you guys for all the reviews and favs and everything! They're the greatest motivation I could hope for!**

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><p>It wasn't easy for the young doctor to keep Peter away from Neal's room. The agent didn't seem to understand and the doctor couldn't really blame him for not understanding why Neal didn't want to see anyone. It made no sense. Prison's infirmaries were often a place where the inmates could see their family and closed ones a little longer than usual and most of the time they enjoyed it as long as they could. It was Jones who got Peter out after his boss copiously insulted the whole prison's staff in front of the doctor. A part of Peter knew it wasn't their fault if Neal didn't want to see him but he couldn't prevent himself to think that Neal wouldn't be in the infirmary in the first place if it wasn't for their incompetent behavior. He only stopped shouting at them when they got to the parking lot.<p>

"Give me the keys. I'll drive.", Peter told Jones.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea boss... I-"

Peter didn't leave him any time to finish his sentence.

"I'll drive", he said again, stretching out his hand in front of the younger agent, waiting for the keys to be handed over. Jones didn't have much of a choice. He did as his boss demanded and took place in the passenger seat.

While they were leaving the parking lot Peter started dialing a well-known number on his car's phone. It rang twice before someone picked up.

"There is a mocking bi-", the voice started but once again Peter didn't have the patience to let his counterpart finish his sentence.

"Cut the crap, Haversham! Where are you?", he shouted.

"It's Wednesday; so I think I should be at Monday but-"

"Haversham! I need to see you. It's about Neal."

There was a short silence on the line before Mozzie answered: "Meet me at his place in an hour."

Peter didn't take the time to answer and just hang up. The agent didn't talk to Jones anymore until he parked the car in front of the FBI building.

"I gotta go. I'll leave you here.", the senior agent said.

"What are you gonna do? I'm not sure it's a good idea to go to the little guy... He won't be of any help to get Neal to accept the deal...", Jones replied.

"With or without a deal, Neal needs to get out.", Peter answered, looking away from Jones. The young agent didn't want to ask if Peter was talking just about a deal or really more about getting the conman out whether he had a permission to do so or not. Jones was afraid he already knew the answer to that. He closed the door quietly and watched the Taurus drive away.

**WCWCWCWCWC**

As soon as he entered the office, Jones' first thought was to find Diana. The two agents were not close friends but they had always trusted each other and Diana was Peter's friend ever since the older agent had become her mentor. Maybe she would be able to help.

Jones didn't have to say anything when he found her at the coffee machine. She nodded and quietly motioned him to get into Peter's office, the one place they could talk without almost a dozen agents listening to them.

"How is Neal", she asked as soon as the door closed behind them.

"Pretty bad... He's been at the infirmary for a few days at least but...", Jones didn't know how to say it, "he can't go back to gen pop Diana. He won't make it..."

Diana nodded quietly. She hadn't seen Neal in weeks and was kinda missing him. He was a con man, he could get almost everything with a smile and sweet talks but she still trusted him and wouldn't want anything bad to happen to him.

"Where is Peter?", she asked after a pregnant silence.

"That's the other part of the problem...", Jones was obviously uneasy, "he went to meet Haversham... He wants Neal out. By all means."

Diana closed her eyes for an instant. She had been afraid this moment would come.

"We need to get him out before Peter makes a mistake.", she said as if it was the easiest thing to do in the world.

"How?"

Diana smiled, "You'll just have to testify against me..."

**WCWCWCWCWC**

When he stepped into Neal's apartment, Peter first thought he was early. The apartment was dark and he couldn't make out anyone else. It took him a few seconds to notice a shadow on the couch. He turned on the light and found Mozzie sitting right in front of him. He had dark circles around his eyes and Peter almost felt guilty. He had expected the little guy to be as paranoid as always and Peter would lie if he said he hadn't been afraid of being unable to show any patience towards the other man today. But he hadn't thought for one second that the man could be in such a bad shape.

"I suppose you know what's been happening to Neal." It wasn't a question. Peter could read in the man's face that he was aware of what had happened to their friend.

"I have my sources."

"He doesn't want to get out."

"I know."

"We need to get him out."

"I know.", Mozzie said again.

Peter felt like there was something the little guy wasn't telling him and even though he wasn't sure if he wanted to know, he had to ask.

"Is there something you wanna tell me, Haversham?"

For the first time since Peter entered the room, Mozzie lifted his head to look at him; "Nothing you'd like to hear, Suit.", the little guy answered. He had obviously been crying and Peter felt his heart tighten in his chest. Mozzie was right; he didn't want to hear what the man knew.

"Do you have a plan?", the agent asked.

"I did. I told Neal what he had to do and where he had to be and that incorrigible idiot didn't do anything. I haven't seen him since, he doesn't accept my visits."

"Yeah, I guess we've got something in common after all…"

Mozzie chuckled sadly; "I didn't think I would ever live to see this moment! You'd be ready to take part in an breakout?"

Peter took a seat next to the little guy quietly.

"I can't let him rot in there, Mozzie..." Peter felt so desperate. "I went to see him today, he was at the infirmary, unconscious. He was so still… Seemed so young. So vulnerable. I watched him for an hour and a half before he woke up. I tried to find a way to tell him something that'd convince him to come back. I didn't... I shouldn't have to convince him! I don't get it! I don't really want to take part in an breakout. I just wanted you to know... If someone helped him... You know, I don't think I'd find him."

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><p><strong>A little review?<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you all for your amazing review! They really make my day!  
><strong>

**I had a hard time writing this chapter. Everything went very well when I thought about it in french but I didn't really achieve to write the same thing in english. It was realy frustrating! Fortunately I have the best beta reader, ButtermilkCavalry and I can't thank her enough for her help on this chapter!**

**I really hope you'll like it and please let me know what you think!**

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><p>Reese Hughes was the born leader. His agents respected him, trusted him to be fair and rightfully so, because whatever Hughes said or did, he tried to look at it from every angle imaginable and only then he made his decision. He was patient, almost analytical and a good observer. But above all things Hughes had the respect of his people because he was willing to listen what they had to say. And that's what made them realize that they had gone too far when their superior sighed and closed his eyes as if he gave up listening to them.<p>

Diana and Jones were in his office, facing the only man who could make their plan work.

"How comes no bullet was missing from your weapon, Agent Berrigan?", Hughes asked as if he already knew the answer. Maybe because he did.

"It was a panic reaction, sir. Agent Burke didn't know I was there and I didn't want him to think I was watching him. Considering all the problems we had with Fowler… I just was afraid it would bring too much heat so I changed the mag with one of my private guns." , she answered.

It was a paltry excuse and they knew Hughes wasn't buying it when he sighed deeply.

"Do you realize that this will be on your permanent record?"

"I do, sir. I just needed to tell you the truth. I had no reason to fire and I figured that a reconstitution would help me realize that what I did was wrong."

The senior agent nodded, rolling his eyes; "Of course you did...", he muttered, "I suppose you can confirm Agent Berrigan's version of what happened, Agent Jones?"

"Yes sir. I was there."

There was a short silence before Hughes signed the papers in front of him and gave them to Diana.

"Bring him back."

He didn't have to say anything else. Diana and Jones both nodded quietly and left the room.

They went to Peter's office to make a few calls in private. First they called the warden of Neal's prison. Diana explained him how she had met Neal and Peter at the airport just after the plane had blown up. She had seen a shadow in the hangar and fired. Her boss now asked her to do a reconstitution and they needed Caffrey to be present.

The warden agreed immediately. Caffrey was supposed to be released to Peter's custody anyway and the warden seemed to like the idea of someone else finally taking Caffrey off his hands. Then they tried to reach Peter but without any success. Diana left him a message, asking him to meet them at the prison's gate in one hour.

When Jones and Diana parked in front of the prison, Peter was already there. It didn't take them long to explain how they wanted to get Neal out, at least for the day. Peter looked at them, his hands on his hips, his jaw clenched.

"And then what? Any plans of how we keep him out of prison at the end of the day?"

The two young agents looked at each other. "We thought that you could talk to him. Make him change his mind...", Diana answered. Peter took in a deep breath but finally nodded. They all knew it was a long shot but they had to try.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWCWC

After Peter had finally left the infirmary, Neal sighed in relief. He knew that if he had to face the man again, he might break down. There were a few tears rolling down his cheeks now. He wasn't even sure why, he just couldn't help it. He knew that was exactly how he had wanted it but it hurt so much to realize that, once again, he was alone. There wasn't anyone to support him, help through this hell. But he kept trying to find a way, a genius idea that could get him out, without hurting Luigi. There was none. He had to stay on his first idea: waiting for Luigi's release. Three month. 87 days. What would happen afterwards didn't really matter. He could think about that part of his brilliant plan later… All he had to do was staying alive for 87 days. How hard could it be?

Neal tried to get some rest as long as he could but he was soon ripped out of his doze by Peter's voice. When the agent entered the room there was relief on his face but Neal didn't let him say a word. He immediately called for a nurse.

"I thought I was allowed to refuse visitors?", he asked when a young nurse entered.

"It's not a visit Neal. You're coming with us.", Peter answered.

"I told you I don't want to work with you anymore!", the young man said, avoiding to look at his former handler. He suddenly was afraid that his talent to lie wasn't enough to hide the truth from Peter.

"It's not about your work as a CI. Jones and Diana are waiting for us. We need you for a reconstitution."

Neal snorted. Was Peter really trying to con a conman here? "Yeah, right! I don't believe a word. I'm not coming!"

"I'm not asking you to. I'm telling you to. You have to come, it's not up for discussion."

Neal finally locked his eyes with Peter's and allowed himself to think about going with his friend. The FBI couldn't force him to help them, that much was for sure. The only thing they could do was laying obstruction charges and even that was unlikely because of his right to remain silent. They could arrest him but that would have been redundant in his case because he was already imprisoned. No, whatever Pete said, Neal didn't have to go with him.

But… If Peter really needed his help, he could use it as an excuse to get out of this hellhole, even if just for a day. And Wilkes wouldn't be able to hold it against him. Peter seemed to be determined to do everything in his power to take Neal with him and even if Wilkes had eyes and ears in the infirmary, it would just look as if Neal was too tired to argue with the FBI agent.

Neal nodded. "Fine, I'll come with you. But I won't talk to you, or sign anything without my lawyer."

Peter nodded and for the first time in a very long time, Neal saw him smiling.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWC

It took half an hour to get Neal up and into a wheelchair and another twenty minutes to get him into the car. Peter didn't say anything. He carried his young friend in silence, afraid that anything he said would make Neal cut him off even more. But he could feel the young man's bones under his shirt and hear his silent pleas at every move and Peter swore to God that he would find out what was going on in this prison and make the people that had hurt his friend pay.

Jones and Diana went to Diana's car and left Peter and Neal in the Taurus.

Peter drove in silence. Once in a while he took a look at his passenger. The con man was so pale it was frightening. The agent waited for Neal to fall asleep, then dialed a number on his car's phone.

"Berrigan."

"It's me. Neal is asleep. I think we should take him to the hospital.", Peter said softly, trying his best not to wake Neal up.

"If you do so, I'll run.", Neal said, matter-of-factly.

"I'll call you back later", Peter said before hanging up.

Neal was straightening up in his seat. "I won't go to the hospital. I'll do your reconstitution and I'll go back to my cell. That's it."

Peter sighed deeply. "I can't do this anymore."

He pulled and the car over and turned to Neal. "What's going on Neal?", he asked angrily, "Because I don't get it! Nobody does! You even let Mozzie down! What the hell is wrong with you? Do you wanna die in there?"

The con man tried to back away, afraid of his friend's anger but he just managed to move his shoulder and hissed in pain. "Drive me back.", he said, trying to recompose himself.

"I can't...", Peter was tired of this game. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm down. "I can't drive you back there Neal...", he shuddered, "I just can't, I'm sorry."

Neal wanted to tell him to go to hell. He wanted to go back to his cell, to be alone. He wanted to stay strong. He couldn't.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was the drugs. He just felt as if there was hope, as if Peter could help after all. He realized that he just wanted to stay free. Go home.

"I don't want to go back.", he said softly as a single tear rolled down his cheek. .

Peter seemed surprised. He couldn't believe what he just heard.

"I need your help.", Neal said and Peter just nodded. Of course he would help. Whatever it took to keep his friend safe – he was willing to do it.

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><p><strong>So? What do you think?<strong>


	14. Chapter 14

**I can't thank you all enough for all your reviews! I tried to answer to everyone but here are the answers to the anonymous reviews:**

**_zo_:**_ désolée mais je ne pense pas écrire une version francaise. Des fois je regrette d'avoir commencé cette histoire en anglais parce que je peux écrire en français beaucoup plus facilement mais je ne pense pas que je la traduirai maintenant que je l'ai écrite en anglais...**  
><strong>_** sorry I don't think there will ever be a french version. Sometimes I wish I would have started this story in french because it's really easier for me but I don't think I'll translate it now that I wrote it in english...**

**_Patamar2_: I think that Neal could break down in front of Luigi because Luigi already knew everything, there was nothing to hide anymore. In front of Peter I think he would make his best to try and stay a little strong.**

**To everyone else: thank you very much and please keep reviewing, it's the best motivation!**

**And of course a huge thanks to my beta **ButtermilkCavalry** because this story would never work without her!  
><strong>

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><p>Peter didn't say a word. He just looked at Neal's shaking hands in the con man's lap and Peter lightly squeezed his arm before he put out his phone.<p>

"Diana, I need you and Jones to go back to the prison and sign whatever they need to release Neal to my custody. Call me when it's done."

There was a short silence before Peter nodded. "I will. Thank you."

The agent hung up and turned back to Neal, once again squeezing his arm. This time he didn't let go again. "I'm going to drive you to the hospital, Neal. We'll-"

Neal didn't let him finish. He pulled away his hand and shook his head in panic. "No hospital Peter. I'm fine, I swear."

Peter tried a weak smile; "You were in an infirmary thirty minutes ago. I wouldn't say you're fine..."

"Precisely!", Neal insisted "I _was_ in an infirmary and they had no problems releasing me, I'm okay!"

Peter didn't know what to do. On one hand, he knew Neal was still weak and in pain and it would ease his mind if his friend's injuries were checked at the hospital. On the other hand, he was afraid that if he insisted, Neal would just change his mind and demand to go back to his cell. If he hadn't been so concerned about his friend's health, he would have laughed at the thought. He had spent most of the past year threatening Neal to send him back to prison if he didn't behave and now he was suddenly afraid that the young man would rather get back than staying with him. It sounded like a joke. Except, it wasn't.

"Please Peter, I just wanna go home..."

Neal was begging now and Peter realized that his friend might just need to decide for himself after obeying guards for weeks.

"Okay," the agent started and he could read the obvious relief on Neal's face, "here is the deal: we'll go to my place and-"

Once again, Neal didn't seem to like where the conversation headed and he started to look exasperated, "No, Peter..." He leaned his head back against the headrest and shut his eyes. "I want to go _home._Please..."

Peter rolled his eyes. Obviously, this wasn't getting easier. "Okay Neal, here is my last offer: I'll drive you home, check your injuries and if I think you need to go to a hospital, you'll go. Not negotiable."

When he pulled over in front of June's mansion, Peter realized that he hadn't even called her once since Neal had been brought back to jail and he immediately felt guilty about it. He looked at his sleeping friend in the passenger seat and wondered if he could leave him in the car. He wanted to talk to June in private first. Neal's landlady would be shocked if she saw Neal in his current condition without a warning. Peter had no doubts that she would let her charming roomer in again but she definitely deserved some sort of explanation. It was the least he could do.

He got out of the car slowly and shut his door as quietly as possible not to wake Neal up. But he didn't even do so much as stir. The kid really had to be exhausted.

Peter walked up the stairs and rang the doorbell. A few seconds later a young woman opened and led him inside.

"I'm Peter Burke, a friend of June's", he told her, "can I see her?"

"I'm sorry, sir but she's at her sister's in Florida.", the young woman answered, "May I help you?"

Peter cursed under his breath. He hadn't even thought about the possibility that June couldn't be home.

"Well, the thing is... I'm here with Mr. Caffrey. He used to live here and I was wondering if June would be okay if he came back."

"I'm sure she will! She tried to visit him but he wouldn't accept. She was very worried about him, you know? Why don't you get him and I'll call her and make sure she knows he's back in the meantime?"

Peter offered her a brief smile and turned back. He was surprised to see Neal leaning against the frame of the car's door. The young man was still wearing an orange jumpsuit and Peter couldn't help but think that the neighbors were gonna talk about it for weeks.

"Damn it, Caffrey, You're stubbornness will give me a heart attack one day. Let's get you inside."

Peter rushed to Neal's side and offered him the support he obviously needed. Climbing the stairs to the loft wasn't a piece of cake. Step after step Neal leaned heavier against Peter and the agent had to restrain himself from stopping in the middle of the stairs and turning back to drive the young man to a hospital after all.

They finally managed to get to the apartment and Peter helped Neal to lie down on the bed as soon as the maid told them that June was very pleased to have Neal back at her house again. When Neal seemed comfortable in his position, Peter thought about further steps.

"Do you need anything? Food? Water?", the agent asked.

"I'm fine. Thanks."

The con man looked better than earlier. The short nap in the car seemed to have served him well.

"I'm gonna need you to take your jumpsuit off Neal. I need to see your injuries", the agent said.

"I'm fine Peter, I swear. I just want to sleep right now. Couldn't you do that later?"

Peter shook his head slightly. "I'll help you undress ok? But I can't let you go to sleep before I'm sure you'll wake up tomorrow, can I?", the agent managed a smile. Neal didn't.

"I'll do it myself.", the con man said. He straightened up on the bed and carefully took the clothe off, moaning and whimpering but still too proud to allow Peter's assistance.

The agent didn't say a word when he finally got a good look at Neal's battered body. The young man dropped his gaze, unable stand the shock in Peter's eyes.

"Should I lie down?", he eventually asked when Peter didn't move.

"No, I'll just..." Peter sat besides his friend and looked at his back.

There were bruises of many different colors. Some were of a deep blue, others were yellow. A few were already fading away. Peter sighed deeply; With bruises like that, Neal had to be in pain and Peter would have felt a lot better if he knew the other man could rely on some pain meds if he needed them. But a prescription would require a hospital. Neal seemed to read his thought because he started to smile stubbornly.

"No hospitals, Peter."

Peter knew that battle had been lost for a long time.

"I know... But I'll tell you what – I'll call a doctor and while we wait for him, I'll get El make you some chicken soup, alright?", Peter tried.

"I have a doctor. Just call Mozzie," Neal answered, "And could you give me my clothes back, please? I can't reach them.", the con man asked, pointing towards the orange jumpsuit on the floor. Peter took a look at it and headed to the closet to come back with black pajamas and a grey sweatshirt.

"Better take those", he said, handing Neal the clothes, "and I'm not sure Moz is up to be a doctor today. Last time I saw him he seemed pretty shaken up..."

Neal carefully put on the pants on and asked, "What do you mean?"

"We met to talk about you and he looked really...", Peter couldn't find any word fitting the little guy's spirit at that time, "Well, he had obviously cried..."

"Oh..." Neal answered. "I guess you should call your doctor then..."

Then he lay down on his bed, squeezing his eyes shut. Neal accepting Mozzie's odd behavior without the even the slightest bit of confusion made Peter go on alert. Mozzie's behavior had been odd enough but this? Neal suddenly calling for a doctor when he would normally push all his own troubles aside and worry about his friend was… unusual – to say the least. Peter didn't understand and once again he felt as if he missed something. Something important. And it almost scared him that he wasn't sure if he even wanted to know what was really going on. He had enough on his plate as it was.

Neal hadn't moved for a few minutes and Peter realized he had already fallen asleep. The agent took his mobile phone and stepped outside on the balcony. First, he called his doctor who accepted to come over right after his appointments at the end of the afternoon. Then he called Diana who told him they were almost done at the prison and asked him if they would meet back at the bureau. He didn't know yet and told her he would call her back as soon as things were sorted out..

Finally he called El and was little disappointed when he only reached her voicemail. He left her a message, explaining that Neal was back at June's, that he needed Peter's help even if he hadn't told him what exactly had changed his mind. He also admitted that he was worried sick about Neal's health, body and soul. He asked if she could come over with some soup because Neal needed something to eat but more than anything, he needed her.

_"He does El. He really does. And, to be honest, I do too."_

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><p><strong>I felt like I I had to slow down a little but I hope it's not too frustrating...<strong>

**Please tell me what you thought!_  
><em>**


	15. Chapter 15

**I'm really sorry! I never thought it would be so long before i could post another chapter!**

**Thank you very much for your reviews! They remind me that i'm not allowed to give up on this story!**

**And a special thanks to ButtermilkCavalry; you really help me so much! I can't thank you enough!**

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><p>When the friends parade started, Neal wasn't sure of his decision any more.<p>

First, there was El. El's smile. Some soup. A few words but not many. El didn't need words anyway. She was there. Her hands on his arm, in his hair. He knew she held back her tears and he tried the same.

"You know you can talk to me, honey. Peter can leave us alone if it makes it any easier for you. Right, hon?"

She turned around to Peter and Neal thought for a moment that there was a slight flash of jealously in Peter's eyes but there was some sort of inscrutable trust between Peter and his wife. He trusted her. The agent just left them alone.

_Neal __didn't__talk._

_..._

There was Moz too. Later in the afternoon. The little man wasn't blabbering about government conspiracies for once. As El before, he tried to just there for his friend. Helping him to get to the bathroom and back. Neal wasn't able to hide how embarrassed he felt just as Mozzie wasn't able to conceal his anger.

"I'll get him Neal. I swear to God I'll get him."

_Neal __didn't __talk._

...

Then, there was Jones and Diana. Worried sick but still professionals to the core. They asked questions; wanted information or explanations, some sort of truth they could work with. They tried it the nice way. They tried it the hard way.

_Neal __didn't __talk._

...

When the night came it was just the two of them again. The FBI agent and the conman.

Neal was on his bed, cross-legged, his eyes closed. The doctor had left a few minutes ago.

"He needs rest. I strongly advise an x-ray too but it can wait. Most of all he needs rest," he had told Peter on his way out. He had diagnosed a few broken ribs, a bad wound in the thigh and bruises. A lot of bruises.

It was just the two of them and the silence was almost unbearable. Peter couldn't think of a time when he had felt so helpless and alone before.

_Neal__ didn't __say__ a __word_.

Didn't look at the agent.

Didn't move.

Until Peter had enough.

"You have to talk to me Neal. I can't help you if you just keep everything to yourself."

Peter let his seat at the table and sat down at the foot of the bed to get closer to Neal.

The conman opened his eyes, staring at his friend, wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was a way to get out of this mess.

"I need you to help a friend of mine," Neal started and Peter frowned. He hadn't expected that.

"I was supposed to do something…" He shook his head while he kept talking. "Something I didn't want to do. Or they would hurt my friend."

"Who's _'they'_?", Peter asked immediately.

The young man kept shaking his head, fighting down his tears. He was sure he had made a mistake now. Peter wouldn't help him if he didn't explain him everything. And he wasn't going to. He couldn't.

"I can't tell you, Peter. I'm sorry.", the young man tried.

"And what did they want you to do?"

Neal considered answering the question. If he answered honestly, Peter might be glad that he had trusted him and he would help him to get Luigi out.

"They wanted an escape plan.", the conman dropped his head, afraid of Peter's possible reaction. But Peter didn't say a word. He just gently put a hand on Neal's shoulder and squeezed it slightly.

"Did they hurt you because you didn't accept to help them?"

Neal shrugged. "Something like that...", he finally answered.

"I'm sorry they did this to you, Neal… I'm… I want you to know that I'm really proud of you," the agent said, "But you have to give me their names Neal. They can't just get away with this!"

The younger man nervously ran a hand through his hair. "I can't do this Peter. You know I can't! I trusted you, I came back here with you, I jeopardize my friend's life to follow you!", he was angry now. Angry at Peter for not being able to drop his perfect 'FBI Special Agent' side sometimes; and at himself for believing Peter would ever be anything else but the man he was. Neal realized that the man he would give his life for any minute probably wouldn't do as much as put his unconditional trust in him. Peter would always need to know _more__; _he would always ask questions. Neal looked at Peter and didn't know if he should feel hurt, betrayed, disappointed or just angry. Peter seemed to notice because he took a deep breath and moved even closer to Neal.

"Okay, calm down", Peter started, "we'll find a way together, okay?"

Neal nodded slightly.

"What do you expect me to do for your friend?", the agent asked.

"I need you to try and find a judge to release him with an anklet." Before Peter could react Neal lifted his hand to cut him off. "He only has a few months left on his sentence. He's married, has a kid he has never met yet; he would never run. Not for anything. But if he stays there, he's gonna get killed."

Peter didn't react at first. There were a million ideas running that came to his mind, questions he asked himself. How dangerous was this guy? Had Neal worked with him? What would happen if he stayed in prison? The most disturbing was: was Neal trying to con him to get his friend out?

The agent finally took a look at his friend and, noticing all the bruises on his faces, the purple bags and dark circles under his eyes and decided that no one would go that far for someone considered anything less than a friend. And if he was that important to Neal, Peter would help. But he still needed some answers.

"Why is he in jail?"

Neal frowned slightly. "Bank robbery," he said before realizing how bad this had to sound in Peter's ears. "There was no violence, they had fake guns. Check his file."

"I will," the agent answered.

"And then you'll get him out?", Neal asked hopefully.

"If I think that he isn't gonna endanger anyone, I'll try. But first I'll ask the warden to isolate him," Peter said and Neal nodded.

"I think you should try and rest now," the agent continued, "You can write down your friend's name and I'll check in the FBI database."

Neal did what he was told and handed Peter the piece of paper. "Are you going home?", he tried to ask as casually as possible.

"No. I'll stay here for the night.", Peter answered.

Neal simply nodded once again and lay down, exhausted but for the first time in weeks with something like hope.

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><p><strong>I hope you liked it! Please review, I'd love to know what you think!<strong>


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